


if you can't survive (just try)

by tamzinrose



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 13:05:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18250433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamzinrose/pseuds/tamzinrose
Summary: alex is like broken glass sometimes. he’s fragile, a little jagged around the edges.





	if you can't survive (just try)

**Author's Note:**

> if you are a person this is about, please don't read it.

alex is like broken glass sometimes. he’s fragile, a little jagged around the edges. the way he cries sometimes, choked off sobs, muffled by his hands like he thinks he needs to keep quiet, not let anyone know.

he’s sharp, too. alex needs to be handled carefully when he gets like that. he panics and he lashes out, or he’ll say things, babbling horrible angry things that he doesn’t mean, not really.

george tries to just shrug it off, let the words roll over him, but sometimes he can’t. “stop. please, alex, stop,” he begs, his hands on alex’s shoulders, trying to hold him still. the words are still there, still coming, spewing like vomit, like poison, like something rotten within alex that’s dying to get out.

george tries not to listen, tunes out the words and hears the rhythms of it, but it’s obvious that alex is angry and scared even from that. he doesn’t realise will’s there until alex’s shrieking and stumbling back from him, and george is reaching for him again when will gently nudges him away. “you’re done,” will tells george, seriously. “you’re tired. this hurts. you’re done.”

george shakes his head, wants to protest, starts to say something about _alex_ and _love_ and - but will cuts him off, pushes him towards the door. “go away. go and sleep.”

“but alex.”

“he can’t hurt me. and i won’t let him hurt himself. i’ve got this, george. fuck off now.”

george stumbles off to his own room, slumps in his bed. even with the duvet pulled up and the pillow over his head to muffle it, he can hear their voices, alex’s frantic _too fast too high too much_ , will’s low soothing calm rumbling. he can’t hear words. he doesn’t want to hear words. there’s a thud and then sobbing, choked off, then whimpering, keening. _alex_. it makes george’s stomach clench and his heart hurt and tears well up in his eyes. he wants to be there. he wants to make alex feel better, wants to look after him, but will is right. he is so tired. he is so tired and he can’t bear it sometimes when alex gets like that.

george wonders, fleetingly, where james is, whether he went back to his flat or will's, when he left. james is the one alex lashes out at the worst; saves the meanest words for him, preys on his weaknesses the most cruelly. there’s a darkness in alex that is terrifying, that makes george want to say _no, fuck this, i’m done_ but he can’t just walk away. there’s nowhere to go where alex isn’t.

george doesn’t understand how this is his life. he doesn’t give a shit. he isn’t supposed to. he is relaxed. he is mellow. he is lazy to the point of apathy.

george feels the bed dip and thinks it’s will. he shifts across the bed to make room, pressing himself up against the wall and it’s cold but he doesn’t mind; he deserves to be uncomfortable.

“okay?” and it’s james. this is where james is. right here with george.

“yeah? not really. but yeah.”

“he doesn’t mean it,” james says, winding an arm around george’s waist to pull him back into the middle of the bed. “he’ll apologise. when he’s...”

“i know. i know.”

“it doesn’t make it any easier, though, does it?”

george huffs a sigh. “we’re all fucked up.”

“can i crash here?” james asks, instead of responding.

“where’s will meant to sleep?”

james shrugs. “his own bed? or alex’s. if he can get him to quiet down. he seems pretty worked up.”

george flinches.

“hey, i’m not blaming you. no one blames you. will’s got this. it’s okay. you don’t have to do everything.”

it’s not enough. it’s never enough. maybe it never will be enough. maybe alex will always be broken glass and george will always be picking up the pieces and trying to stick them back together.

“i’m tired,” he says.

“so sleep,” james replies.

“no,” george says, tugging the duvet more firmly around himself, “no, i mean... i’m _tired_. of... this. of alex. of everything.”

“he’s just... he won’t always be like this. you know he won’t. he’s been good lately. he’s happy and he’s stable and you keep him safe.”

“i can’t. i _can’t_ if it’s... he’s exhausting. it feels like obligation, like i _have_ to take care of him. is that love? because if it is, it’s fucking bullshit.”

james reaches across to grip george’s hip, squeezing hard enough to bruise. “you love him. you don’t want to lose him. yes, he’s exhausting, but you don’t have to do all of it. you’re not alone with this. we’re all still here too. we’re your family.”

george makes a soft whining noise in the back of his throat. “i don’t... i don’t want to talk about this.”

“sleep then."

“you stayin’?”

“yeah. if that’s okay?”

george _hmms_.

“i’ll be quiet when i get up, and i won’t complain if you steal all the duvet.”

“okay,” george agrees, only a little reluctantly.


End file.
